Pirates of the Caribbean Fanfic Chain
by Movie Fanfic Chains
Summary: Multiwriter. A woman claiming to have a connection to the cursed treasure may be the only person to rival Cap'n Jack's cunning. R&R! Set shortly after the movie. Rating subject to change.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** We do not own the characters from the movies. Characters not seen in the movies belong to the group as a whole or to one of the group members. Please ask permission before using them.

**Written by Heidi Rittner (pen name JasmineHR)  
**She raised her spyglass to get a better view of the arriving ship. 'It's about time', she thought. The Black Pearl had finally made its way to Tortuga's port. She watched as the crew prepared to make berth, making mental notes of the ship's condition. Sailors who claimed to have seen the Black Pearl while in the hands of the cursed crew had said the ship itself appeared to be cursed. The sails, they had said, were filled with holes and many of the wood beams looked to be rotted, and yet these things did not hinder the ship's speed or performance. According to the latest gossip, the original captain of the Black Pearl had left here with a crew intending to take back the ship he had lost to mutiny. The ship now had fairly new sails and she could see the slight difference in color where the ship had been repaired with new planks compared to the old weathered planks, an observation unnoticeable to the untrained eye. From the looks of things, he had succeeded in his quest.

"Now," she mumbled to herself, "let's see what we'll be dealing with."

She turned the spyglass in the direction of the Black Pearl's bridge and focused on its Captain. So this was the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow. The man who, according to the stories she'd gathered, would have been dead ten times over if not for his sheer dumb luck. Speaking of dumb, it was reported to her by several locals that he was a bit dimwitted and tended to spend a majority of his days in a drunken stupor. She studied him as closely as she could at her range. She was surprised to see that he was younger than she had expected him to be, maybe only five or six years her senior, and from this distance, she could see that he was easy on the eyes. At the present, he appeared to be sober but his brainpower, or lack thereof, could not be determined until she had a chance to talk to him. He did not have the look of a halfwit, but as she had learned in her life, looks can be deceiving.

She collapsed the spyglass and placed it back into a hidden pocket in her skirts as she headed back to prepare for her meeting. An hour should be a sufficient amount of time for him to anchor and get settled in. She'd know where to seek him out at that time.

Sparrow and Gibbs took a seat at one of the tavern tables with drinks in hand. After a quick glance to make sure there weren't any shady characters about, Jack hunched forward in his seat in order to speak in lower tones. Gibbs followed suit.

"Here's my plan, mate. We lay low for a fortnight, then make our way back to Isle de Muerte."

Gibbs shook his head. "But Jack, what of the treasure? Do ye think it safe to be sittin' there for the takin'?"

"It'll be fine. Only I know the exact whereabouts of Isle de Muerte. The crew may have an idea of its location, but they would have a hard time of it without the compass." He patted the object safely attached to his belt. "If we were to make haste after our recent arrival, it would seem suspect."

"Aye," Gibbs nodded in understanding. "You've a good mind in that head of yours, Jack."

But Jack's attention, as well as the attention of everyone in the tavern, was turned towards the door. Gibbs turned around to see what had caused the halt of all talking and movement.

Jack studied the woman who had managed to get the attention of an entire room simply by entering it. Of course, anyone who entered this tavern looking to be from a respectable background would draw the attention of the room, especially one in the form of a beautiful woman. She wore a fancy blue dress with elaborate flower designs, an umbrella dangling from her wrist, and one of those silly hats on top of her perfectly coiffed hair. How anyone could stand wearing the hundred pounds of material, Jack would never understand. She was obviously looking for someone and was interrupted as a big, particularly dirty, balding pirate approached her.

"Ahoy there, missy. I wonder, what's a fine thing such as yourself doing in this tavern? Come to answer my prayers, have ye?"

He reached out a hand towards her and she smacked it with her umbrella. The room burst out laughing, angering the pirate. He took another grab for her, but she jabbed him with the tip of her umbrella, once in the gut and once in the chest. Jack, being a very keen observer, noticed that she was holding the umbrella like an expert swordsman yields a sword. Of course, an umbrella can't do too much damage, but if she had been holding a sword, the man would be dead. The crowd burst out in laughter once again. Now the pirate was extremely angry. When she went to jab him again, he grabbed the umbrella and yanked her towards him, holding her around the waist. Jack put a hand on the hilt of his sword, waiting for an opportune moment to cut it.

"Not so tough without yer umbrella now, are ye?"

She scowled at him then smiled sweetly as her hand grasped the knife in her pocket. She slowly withdrew it and spoke in a low voice for his ears only. "If you value your family jewels," she put pressure on the blade and smiled wider as all the blood left his face, "then I suggest you go sit down with your friends and go about your own business."

He let go of her and she quickly hid the knife back in her pocket as he made his way back to his table. Everyone looked at each other shrugging and slowly got back into their previous conversations. Jack, with his shrewd eyes and sharp mind, saw everything that had taken place.

She made eye contact with him and started in his direction. He looked behind him to see who she might be looking at, but soon realized that she had been looking for him.

Gibbs turned towards Jack. "Here comes trouble," he said in a low voice.

"Captain Jack Sparrow?"

"That all depends on who's asking."

She smiled and stuck out her right hand in greeting. "My name is Gabrielle Cortez."

**Written by BriannaRabbit (same pen name)  
**Jack looked at the girl, his eyes slowly running up the length of her as he leaned back in what appeared, to the untrained eye to be a drunken manner. Seeing nothing to signal immediate danger his gaze returned to the hand suspiciously. After a moment he reluctantly stuck his own hand out; he did not entirely trust this girl.

Gabrielle took the offered hand and shook it heartily. Her eyes narrowed at the pirate as she gave it a strong squeeze before releasing it. That'll teach him for looking her up and down. Bloody pirate.

"What is it that you want lass?" Jack wondered as he settled back drunkenly into his seat. If the strength of Gabrielle's handshake surprised him he wasn't about to show it.

"Could we discuss this... privately...?" Her eyes flitted to Gibbs uncertainly.

"Mr. Gibbs is me first mate; he stays." Jack told her firmly.

"Very well..." Gabrielle sighed and reached into the bodice of her dress.

"Then again some things are meant to be in private..." Jack cleared his throat as both he and Gibbs looked intently at what she was doing.

"Don't get your hopes up Mr. Sparrow," Gabrielle rolled her eyes and pulled the necklace off of her neck. Carelessly she tossed it onto the table in front of the two pirates.

"It's Captain Sp-" The correction died on Jack's lips as the shining piece of Aztec Gold that was only too familiar to Jack came to a stop on the old wooden table near his hand. He withdrew that hand immediately as though afraid to touch it.

"Mary mother 'o-" Gibbs began but couldn't finish. Both he and Jack turned at the same time to see Gabrielle smirking at them.

"So Captain... are we ready to talk business?" Gabrielle asked in a sweet tone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Written by Penny  
**The lavender eyed gaze swept in everything around it. The way the young woman was ogled by everyone in the tavern, including the captain, made the kid almost smirk, but instead, he just shook a head full of raven black hair. Leaning against a supporting beam, the youth played with one of two thin braids that hung on either side of his face. The rest was tied back in a short queue by an old piece of ribbon that had seen better days, that with its newness gone, hung limp and frayed at the edges.  
  
He didn't look much better than his ribbon, truth be known. Small framed, lean and lanky, he looked like he'd missed one too many meals in his life. He had that scraggly appearance of any number of street urchins in Tortuga, whose father had gone to sea and never returned to claim their offspring after a night of carousing with one of the local barmaids. He scratched his backside and grunted looking at the woman that had just sent a greasy looking piece of bilge back to his table with the rest of his cronies.  
  
The kid chuckled to himself. If the strings ever busted on that corset she wore, everything would come shooting out, like cannonballs from a couple forty pounders, firing a broadside, he thought. "Tha' be enough ta sink yer ship, Jackie, me lad," he snickered under his breath, watching Sparrow looking up at the woman. It didn't take an educated man to see where the pirate's eyes were lingering. 'Ye best watch out fer that umbrella my good son', he thought to himself, biting his lip to keep from laughing out loud at the mental picture that had popped in his head. He could just see Captain Jack Sparrow, dancing a jig down the narrow streets and alleys of Tortuga, while the woman poked and prodded him in various unmentionable places on his person with her umbrella.  
  
Silent laughter died on his lips when the woman's hand went to her throat and the flash of gold was seen by every man jack of that scurvy lot in the tavern. It drew them like a homing beacon in a storm. Conversation once again ceased when the necklace with its heavy gold coin hit the table in front of Sparrow and his first mate.  
  
Standing stock still, the kid watched through eyes that seemed to be ready to drift off, carefully watching the play of emotions on Sparrow and his first mate's face. Neither one seemed keen on touching what lay in front of them. Interesting, he thought. Very interesting. Two auld fools, who were supposed to be the scourge of the Seven Seas and here they both were, afraid to touch what lay before them. In fact, the both of them looked like a couple of scalded cats ready to flee at any moment.  
  
Kit shifted his weight against a beam, scratching again. The air was thick in here, with the smell of stale grog, tobacco, unwashed bodies and the wood fire burning in the large hearth across the back wall. He yawned again, giving the appearance of being bored with the goings on, while he continued to watch the patrons through heavy lidded eyes. Most all went back to talking and drinking in their own set groups. There were three in particular that continued to watch Sparrow and the woman, one of who was the man that had grabbed her, right after she first came in.  
  
It was then that Kit felt the hair dance on the back of his neck. He hadn't lived almost seventeen years and not known when someone was watching him. It's what had kept him alive on more than one occasion and that sense was even now warning him to beware. He shifted again, half stretching, looking like he was trying to get comfortable and he opened his eyes, blinking and settled back against the beam.  
  
In that short a time he saw three things. The pirate that has accosted the woman and his two cronies were up, inching their way toward the table where she stood speaking to Sparrow. Two, Sparrow was beginning to look interested and three, there was a male at a table near the door that had gotten up and started to move toward him, when the three that were moving toward Sparrow, the woman and his first mate began to pull their swords.  
  
Kit's hand went to his dagger pulling it deftly from its sheath and moved in as the lankier of the three, pulled a dagger ready to toss it at Sparrow's back. The dagger hit its mark and the pirate fell backward, Kit's dagger buried to the hilt in his chest. Sparrow's head snapped up, looking behind him when the woman gasped, while patrons of the tavern scooted back away from the tables to stay out of the coming fight. The pirate's two mates didn't look pleased when they looked from their dead comrade, to the kid that had sent him to meet his maker.  
  
The kid shrugged at them sheepishly. "I didn't like the odds," he smirked. "Three against one..." He put up a finger, tsk, tsking them as he clucked his tongue. "Shame on ya. Did yer mothers not teach ya any better than that? Tryin' to sneak up on a man in a crowded tavern. Ya should be ashamed of yerselves." Kit caught movement out of the corner of his eye and spotted the young man moving closer. "Stay where ya are, least ya join that fool friend of yours on the floor!" he warned.  
  
"Tha' trosk be nae friend o' mine, Laddie," he answered with a quiet Highland brogue. "Ah dinna classify mahself wi' the likes o' tha' trash. Only a dog wuid stick a dirk in a mon's back!" Slowly he pulled his own sword, a claymore by the look of it, Kit thought, from the sheath over his shoulder.  
  
"Did I ask fer yer help? A 'Cause I don't seem tae remember my mouth movin'," Kit snapped back, watching the two that looked ready to charge them anytime. When the young man laughed next to him, it made him angry, and he almost didn't get his scimitar up in time to block the large, burly pirate that had grabbed the woman, earlier. Steel clashed in the tavern as tables were knocked over, and patrons scrambled like scared mice, to move out of the way. The larger pirate had the benefit of experience, but Kit was young and strong and as small as he was, as he was wiry, dodging and ducking the other's blows, while he played a deadly game of cat and mouse with the man.  
  
The Highlander was skillful, giving kind for kind, for every blow the other pirate dealt him. Better than his mate, Kit saw he offered the young man less of a challenge than the one Kit fought, who now was slowly, methodically backing him into a corner. Kit was hard pressed to find an opening, but the pirate, sneered and left himself wide open when he raised his sword to hit Kit with a killing blow. He stood there for a second, the moment frozen in time after his sword had come arcing down at the kid. Kit watched the light drain from his eyes and heard a wet gurgle on his lips, when the pirate's sword clattered to the stone floor and he followed, while Kit pulled his blade from his ribs.  
  
Kit stared down at the body that lay crumpled in a heap and slowly wiped the scimitar's blade on the dead man's clothes, cleaning off the blood. Only after, did he notice the Highlander had dispatched his opponent and was now watching him closely. They eyed each other, sizing the other up, much as an opponent would do with an enemy. Kit raised the scimitar again and seemed to test the weight of it, then gave a couple of practice swings, knowing that not only the Highlander was watching, but Sparrow as well.. Next Kit placed the tip of the blade point down in the palm of his hand, balancing it upright and quickly pushed upward, flipping it end, over end, over end and caught it by the hilt in it's downward descent. The kid looked up, giving them a smug look and shrugged. Then had the gall to do it again with the opposite hand.  
  
"Tell me ye both be lookin' fer work," Sparrow said after a few minutes. "Tis not everyday that two lads with skills such as yerselves jump into a fight that not be yers. If ye both need work, ye have yerselves a place onboard the Black Pearl."  
  
The woman gave him an incredulous look. "You can't be serious!" she said staring at the younger of the two. "He's just a child!"  
  
"Don't worry yerself, Missy. That child, as you call him will be well taken care of. So what do you say, Lads? Do you want to sail with Captain Jack Sparrow?"  
  
Kit gave a slow smile that spread across his face. "Aye, Cap'n. I do."  
  
The Highlander nodded next to him, keeping one eye on Kit and the other on Sparrow. "Aye. Ah weel sign on wi' ye, Cap'n. Mah name be Keiran Wallace."  
  
"And you, Lad. Yer name?" Sparrow asked, trying to ignore the look that Wallace kept giving the boy.  
  
"Kit. Kit Kilkenny," he said flatly.  
  
"A Scotchman and an Irishman," Sparrow mumbled still watching the two of them. "It should be an interesting trip all around."


	3. Chapter 3

**Laura McFly (same pen name)**

(AN: OK, I wasn't sure whether the first two parts of the story took place at night or in the day, but this is meant to be the morning after the scene in the tavern…)

The sun was creeping over the horizon in Port Royal. Every tavern window was darkened; the last of the revelers had returned to their ships long before. Not a sound could be heard in the cobbled streets, nor down on the docks where all matter of crafts bobbed on the ocean like slumbering water birds. All the town was deep in dreams…all save one.

Nobody noticed the tall, thin figure creeping forth from the old blacksmith's workshop window. He dropped onto the street, landing as lightly as a cat, and then rose slowly. A sliver of moon slipped out from behind its cloak of cloud, casting shadows on his face. Suddenly the young man looked years older. He had a lean, almost hungry-looking face, with a thin fuzz of black hair over the upper lip. Slightly greasy dark curls hung down between his shoulder blades, roped back with a worn piece of cloth. His clothes were perfectly ordinary by Port Royal's standards; a dirty white shirt beneath a brown tunic and trousers. By all accounts he was a typical resident of the city, unremarkable in any particular way. But it was his eyes that drew people to his quick, clever face; the deep brown eyes that seemed to pierce into a man's very soul.

He stood listening for a second, waiting for any slight noise, but none came. Then wordlessly he slipped into a back alley, vanishing almost instantly amongst the slimy black walls. He had lived in this city ever since the death of his mother, and he knew the short cuts to every house and tavern there. But that was as far as he went with adventures now. He'd had quite enough of that last summer, when that crazy pirate turned up claiming he was going after the treasure of the Isla de Muerta and he'd taken off with him to find it. That foolhardy venture had almost cost him the thing he loved most in all the world. He wasn't going to let that happen again. The only thing he regretted about the journey was his apparent poverty now, especially since he had a wedding to prepare for; a large pile of pirate gold would have come in very handy.

He shook his head, trying to dismiss the memory of that voyage. Chasing off after pirate ships was not the sort of thing a respectable young gentleman – or at least a young man masquerading as a respectable one – should be thinking about. He wouldn't chance losing her to the likes of Norrington. But sometimes in his dreams the old fire for adventure was re-awoken within him. He longed for the spray of sea water on his face, the wind whipping through his lank hair. When he was a child and had been obsessed with the ships in the local harbor, he remembered his mother saying that he was definitely his father's son. At the time he had been too young to understand what that meant. Now he knew the truth.

* * *

_Tap, tap, tap._

Elizabeth Swan's dark eyes snapped open. She lay rigid beneath the blankets, breathing heavily as her gaze darted about the chamber. Who was there? Her instinct was to call out, but something seemed to prevent her voice forming coherent words. It seemed like an age before the noise came again. _Tap, tap, tap_ – more persistent this time. She rose from her bed slowly, crossing the wooden floor which creaked dangerously beneath her weight. Her breath caught in her throat as she listened for the sound of disturbance in the house. Tentatively she approached the window and threw it open.

Heavy raindrops pelted the bedroom floor as she looked out into the storm. It was the thick of the wet season in the Caribbean and these morning torrents of water were no longer unusual to her. Her light brown hair dripped down her back, plastered to her skin in rat's tail-ringlets. It was some seconds before she saw him, clinging to the wall beside the window for dear life. He held out his hand to her, unable to speak; but words weren't really necessary for them. She grabbed his thin wrist and pulled him towards the window. The noise he made trying to get into the room from the sill could have woken the dead, but it was drowned out by her father's rumbling snores in the next bedroom.

Elizabeth slammed the window shut and turned to the sopping wet Will, who was panting heavily. Without speaking she threw her arms around him in a passionate embrace and kissed him, softly at first, then more fiercely, as though he were a sickness and its cure together. She seemed to crave him like a starving man craves food. They must have been locked together for a full minute before parting. She pulled away and looked into his eyes.

"Bloody pirates," she said finally, staring out of the window onto the docks. Will approached her side and looked out towards the sea. In an arch in the rock swung three skeletons, creaking in the wind as the storm mutilated their rag-clad bones. "They just don't know what's good for them sometimes." She turned away and began to neaten the bed, trying to avoid Will's eyes for some reason.

"Don't worry," Will said in what he hoped was comforting tones. "I wouldn't go back to that life if I was promised all the gold in the world. I only want you." He turned away, unsure whether what he had said had been too forward. Elizabeth smiled softly.

"I'm not asking you to give anything up," she said quietly. "If you want to be a pirate again, I wouldn't blame you. It's in your blood, after all." Her voice sounded strangely cold and choked. Will walked towards her and put his arm around her shoulder.

"No," he said. "It's not worth taking any more chances. I haven't got time for any more wild adventures; if I can't keep my old job at the blacksmith's, how on Earth are we ever going to be able to get married?"

"We'll find a way," Elizabeth said. "We always do." But part of her wondered if she really believed that any more. They'd been saying that to one another ever since her father had given his reluctant consent to the match – but that was almost a year ago now. Many other young women of similar age and status were already on the arm of high-ranking Navy officials, and several of those had children on the way. She turned to look up at Will, her eyes huge. He leaned down towards her. Their lips were just about to meet when…

_Thump, thump, thump!_ "Elizabeth! Are you decent?"

Will and Elizabeth flew apart instantly. "Quick! Hide!" Elizabeth whispered. She glanced around wildly for somewhere to hide Will before her father and the maids came in. "Give me a few minutes!" she shouted to the door. The wardrobe was no use; when the maids went to gather her things he would be revealed instantly, and she couldn't possibly make him go back to holding on to the wall. The only place left was…

Will only had to look at her to know what she was thinking. He shinnied up the wooden pole of the four-poster and onto the canopy. Elizabeth grabbed the hanging curtain at the side and threw it up to him. She was about to open the door when she realized her hair was still wet. Oh well, it was too late now.

The maids bustled in, clucking over her, whilst her father followed. In his hands he held a large box that Elizabeth instantly knew contained a dress. "You are spoiling me recently, Father," she said. "Three new dresses in as many weeks! May I enquire as to the occasion?"

"I have arranged a surprise for you, my dear," said Governor Swan as he crossed to the bed. Will pulled the curtain further over himself, hoping that the governor wouldn't look up. There was a slight silence, and then Swan spoke again. "Hurry up and dress, then I will tell you all about it." He smiled and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Elizabeth, who was being laced into her corsets, could only nod in reply. She waited until the maids had left and then crossed to the bed. Will was about to sit up when Swan knocked again. He ducked down and hid beneath the blanket, then moved a corner slightly so he could see what was going on.

Elizabeth walked over to the door and opened it. Her father stood in the doorway, the smile back on his face. "Elizabeth, may I present to you an esteemed friend of mine…and your betrothed."


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry for the very long delay in updating, everyone. We've just gotten the group of writers back together and this should hopefully start humming along nicely! Thanks for all the wonderful reviews!

* * *

**Penny - written February 16, 2005  
**Kit looked at the room and it's one and only bed, then looked up at Keiran Wallace with a scowl on his face. "I dinna think so!" The kid glared at the bed again, watching the tall young man walk over and sit down on the thin, sagging, threadbare mattress of goose feathers. Kit's laughter filled the room when he gave a yelp and almost fell through the strapping that held the frame together. 

"Ah dinna think i' be tha' damned funny, Pup!" came the growled reply, as he tried to pull himself back up.

"Then tis cause you're not lookin' at it from where I be standin', yer Nibs," the kid laughed.

"Gi'e us a hand, laddie," he snapped, slipping farther down, in the hole. When Kit backed away shaking his head, Wallace growled at him again. "Insolent pup! Ye wait! Yer turn be comin'! When Ah git 'ut o' this damned torture rack, see if ye dinna find tha toe o' me boot upside yer scrawny arse, ye wee heathen!"

Kit leaned against the door frame, grinning with his arms crossed over his small chest. "Twas not my idea tae share a room with ye, yer Nibs. My bunk twas just fine and I think I'll be goin' back to i' and leave ye to yer _fine_ acomodations," he snickered, watching Wallace's head get lower and his feet get higher, as he steadily sunk farther down.

"Ye...canna stay in...in a stable!" he ground out, fighting to pull himself up. "Ye heard Cap'n Sparrow, ye wee demon! Ye ar' tae stay here!"

"Ye are nae my father an' neither is he!" Kit snapped back. "I weel stay where I wan' and I weel not be sharin' a bed with the likes of ye, ye nasty bugger."

"Filthy mouthed ragamuffin!... Yer daft! Ah hae nae been a' sea _tha' long! _Ah be muir endanger o' catchin' fleas from tha likes o' ye, than ye ar' from me touchin' ye!" He floundered, helpless, trapped in the infernal bed. Not only was that wee heathen making accusations about his person, but was standing over there...somewhere, laughing at him. If he ever got loose, he was going to show the hellion, what it meant to open his mouth and try to talk with Wallace's fist in it.

The strappings that held the frame together creaked ominously, causing him to frown and wonder what new hell awaited him, when it suddenly gave a loud pop and snapped, slamming his backside onto the floor beneath it. "Wha' tha heel!" He pulled his knees to his chest and hit the plank with the soles of his boots, busting the plank that had held him captive, with a sharp crack, and splitting the wood in two.

He wasn't sure which was more annoying. The infernal contraption that some idgit of a sassenach had the gall to tell everyone was a bed or that wee pain in the arse, that laughed like a jackass. He frowned then, looking around the room when he didn't hear anything and found he was the only one there. Cussing, he shoved himself to his feet and stormed from the room.

The breeze coming off the water, caused Kit to yawn. If that pompous ass had left well enough alone, Kit would have been snuggled in the blankets in the loft of the stable by now, instead of wandering through the streets of Tortuga at this time of the night. Well, it wasn't much farther to the stable, Kit thought, walking along and keeping an eye on the shadows. It wouldn't do to get snatched by a work crew and get shanghaied now, of all times.

A fine fog had begun to creep in from the bay, wrapping it's ethereal fingers around everything it touched, while it hugged the ground. There was something about a night like this that made the fine hairs stand on the back of the kid's neck. A sound up ahead, caused the kid to stop in mid step and stare into the darkness. It was ahead, wasn't it? Or was it in the back. Frowning, Kit moved silently. All senses tingled, telling the kid to be aware.

"Bloody damned Scotchman," came the whispered curse. "Mayhap someone will tie an anchor to his arse and drop him over the side." Behind Kit something clattered on the stones, causing the kid to jump and swing around, as a small hand went to the dagger. Again, Kit saw nothing. "Damned Scotchman," the kid cursed again. It was his fault Kit was out here in the first place. Him and Sparrow's.

Kit thought back on the conversation between the two of them as they seemed to gang up against the kid.

_"Tell me ye both be lookin' fer work," Sparrow said after a few minutes. "Tis not everyday that two lads with skills such as yerselves jump into a fight that not be yers. If ye both need work, ye have yerselves a place onboard the Black Pearl."_

_The woman gave him an incredulous look. "You can't be serious!" she said staring at the younger of the two. "He's just a child!"_

_"Don't worry yerself, Missy. That child, as you call him will be well taken care of. So what do you say, Lads? Do you want to sail with Captain Jack Sparrow?"_

_Kit gave a slow smile that spread across his face. "Aye, Cap'n. I do."_

_The Highlander nodded next to him, keeping one eye on Kit and the other on Sparrow. "Aye. Ah weel sign on wi' ye, Cap'n. Mah name be Keiran Wallace."_

_"And you, Lad. Yer name?" Sparrow asked, trying to ignore the look that Wallace kept giving the boy._

_"Kit. Kit Kilkenny," he said flatly._

_"A Scotchman and an Irishman," Sparrow mumbled still watching the two of them. "It should be an interesting trip all around."_

_Then he'd asked if either of them had quarters. "Aye Cap'n. Ah be stayin' a' tha Boar's Head Inn," Mister Pompous Arse had grinned with his homely mug hangin' out._

_"And ye lad? Where are ye quartered?" Sparrow had wanted to know._

_Kit realized too late that right then and there, a lie would have been sufficient__. "I be stayin' in the stable down by the dock, Cap'n."_

_Sparrow had tossed that pompous arse a coin and told him to take Kit with him and settle in, that way, when he wanted them, he'd know where to find them. So that arrogant, fat heided Scotchman had almost pushed him out the door of the tavern and down the street. _

_Kit wasn't really sure who was more shocked by that bugger's announcement that they could share a room. The woman that stood sputtering next to Sparrow or Kit. The kid could still hear her. "You can't possibly expect that child to share a room with a man you hardly know!" Kit had almost laughed out loud at the expression on the woman's face. Almost...that is, until Kit took a real good look at Wallace standing there grinning like a rat eatin' bilge._

_They'd probably all still be standing there if Captain Sparrow hadn't given Wallace a strange look and cleared his throat. Kit had the feeling he was rethinking the logic in sharing a room, but they never found out, for Wallace had already begun to shove Kit out the tavern door..._

Now here Kit was, walking down one of a hundred narrow alley's, in the most notorious den of iniquity, in the West Indies. Not twenty minutes later, Kit saw the stable come into view and gave a sigh of relief. Whatever the noise had been earlier, it stayed where it was and that suited Kit just fine. It was more than likely a rat looking for food scraps the kid reasoned, pulling open the stable door and quietly slipped inside. Pulling the door shut to all but an inch, Kit looked back out to make sure no one had followed, incase, by chance it wasn't a rat.

Giving a sigh of relief, the kid pulled the door shut, then started to turn, when hands snaked out from the darkness and Kit drove home a well placed knee into the most vulnerable place known to man. Kit smiled, hearing a satisfied grunt and a groan and hurriedly jumped back to get a look at the attacker, that now withered on the stable floor.

"OCH! Wha' tha heel maggot gae in tae yer brain, ye wee heathen!" came the groan. "Ye busted mah puir ghullies!"

Kit roared in laughter at the familiar voice. "Why yer Nibs! Fancy meetin' ye here!"


End file.
